"Ah… my arm is broken." The man didn't dare to act rashly and turned to look at Yan Rusheng— it frightened him. His face turned pale in pain.
The chopper fell off from his hand.
And he was no longer as fierce and imposing as when he first came. He cried and begged Yan Rusheng to let him off. "Handsome man! I beg you to release your grip. My arm is broken."
Yan Rusheng looked down at him and gave him one more loathe-driven kick before releasing his grip, making the man drop to the floor in pain.
Before the man could turn over, he lifted a foot and stepped on his back. He stared at him with malice burning in his eyes—he looked as arrogant as ever.
"Who's the one who's tired of living? Huh?"
His tone was faint, and yet it brought a piercing chill. This left the man terrified to his wits. He kowtowed in response, "It's me, it's me."
'Dong, Dong,' could be heard as the man's forehead touched the ground.
